Page 52 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

"And on that note," I announce, "I think we'll wrap up for tonight. Thank you all for coming, and please watch your step around the... birds."

As our group filters out, dodging spontaneous card tricks and random acts of levitation, Grayson lingers.

"So," he says once we're alone (except for Marvin, who's attempting to teach a dove to play chess in the corner). "That was..."

"A statistical anomaly?"

"I was going to say 'interesting.'" He helps me gather scattered papers, careful to avoid the dove still paddling in my coffee. "Though speaking of statistics..."

"Please tell me you haven't created an algorithm to explain tonight."

"No." He pauses. "But I did want to ask... My mother and sister have been not-so-subtly hinting about having you over for dinner."

I freeze halfway through rescuing a chair from wherever Marvin made it "temporarily" relocate to.

"Dinner?"

“Tomorrow,” he clarifies. "Very casual. Though my AI might try to amend the menu based on your preferred flavor profiles..."

"Marvin the Magnificent thinks this sounds most romantic!" Our resident magician appears between us in a puff of glitter. "Like Marvin the Magnificent's love for Dani, family connections cannot be quantified!"

"Yes, thank you, Marvin," Grayson says with surprisingpatience. "Maybe you could help Dani with those chairs that keep mysteriously vanishing?"

Once we're alone again (probably—with Marvin, it's hard to tell), he turns back to me.

"You don't have to?—"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I'll come to dinner." I smooth my cardigan. “That would be very professional of me, right?"

"Extremely logical," he agrees, but his smile—slightly crooked and sexy as hell—suggests otherwise.

Through the windows, Seattle's snow continues to fall, each snowflake adding to the sheet of white that’s slowly growing.

In some ways, it’s like a blank slate. And heaven knows I could use one right now.

"Marvin the Magnificent bids you goodnight!" Our magical friend appears one last time, somehow hanging upside down from my ceiling. "May your hearts, like Marvin the Magnificent's doves, soar free!"

He disappears in a final puff of smoke, leaving behind more rose petals, at least two rabbits, and what appears to be a card predicting our future together.

"Well," Grayson says after a moment, "that was..."

"Please don't say 'statistically improbable.'"

"I was going to say 'perfect.'" He reaches out, brushing rose petals from my hair with a gentleness that makes my chest tight. "Just like your timing with that 'fake boyfriend' comment."

"Very unprofessional of me."

"Completely inefficient," he agrees, but he's still touching my hair, and suddenly the space between us feels charged, dense with all the things passing between us that neither of us can quantify.

A dove lands on his shoulder, cooing what sounds suspiciously like "Can't Help Falling in Love."

"Marvin the Magnificent regrets nothing!" echoes from somewhere in the ventilation system.

As Grayson finally grabs his coat and says goodbye, I try not think about the wedding invitation still sitting on my desk. Or the man who's supposedly just pretending to date me.

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